


Returning Home

by Ars_Matron



Series: Harry Potter Omegaverse Week 2020 [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alpha Tom Riddle, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Harry Potter is a Horcrux, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Manipulative Tom Riddle, Naive Harry Potter, Omega Harry Potter, Pack Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:41:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22885720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ars_Matron/pseuds/Ars_Matron
Summary: Fourteen years ago Voldemort was defeated at the hands of a child and in revenge for their fallen leader the Death Eater tore the world apart.Holding on by a thread Dumbledore and the order tried to keep the wizarding world together, fighting back, growing stronger.Two years ago in dark graveyard Voldemort was resurrected, and what little footing the Order had crumbled.Now Dumbledore is dead and the packs have disbanded. There's only one thing Harry can do to keep what little family he has left safe.___________Harry didn’t want to fight a battle that couldn’t be won.He just wanted everyone to survive.They were only targets because of him. Only vulnerable because Voldemort wanted him for some reason. Dead, probably. He most likely wanted Harry dead. Which was fine if it meant that he wouldn’t have to see the lifeless eyes of a friend again. Wouldn’t have to bury someone he loved. Again._____________________Harry Potter Omegavrese Week Day OneDystopiaPack dynamics
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Series: Harry Potter Omegaverse Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1645051
Comments: 28
Kudos: 936
Collections: Harry Potter Omegaverse





	Returning Home

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! And welcome to Harry Potter Omevagerse week!  
> This is day one, Dystopia (Pack Dynamic)
> 
> More about my ABO universe on the series page. Nothing technical really comes into play until tomorrow's story though (And not really until day four). So, just enjoy!

The Order was dead. 

It had been crumbling for a long time, despite what the gossip said. Dumbledore’s death wasn’t the beginning of the pack’s demise, it was simply the final crack in an already unsteady foundation. The water that washed away the fragile glue that held loosely held several smaller packs together. Moody took his pack and went underground, there was talk that he was mounting attacks here and there, though nothing too destructive or worthy of note. The Weasley pack retreated to their home base, nothing much was heard of them after that. They were laying low. They had children to protect. 

Then there was Harry and his friends. Were they pack? It didn’t feel like they should old enough for that title. They were what was left after the dust of the Order’s fall had settled. For a time Sirius had kept them together. Taking the lead as the oldest alpha among them. But even he was gone now. Taken down in the last raid. He had fought bravely and well, he had been on the few that had manged to keep hold of a wand throughout the years. In the end he had sacrificed himself so that Harry and the others could escape. 

Now it was just them. Ron wanted to go back to his family’s pack, but their last message to the Burrow had gone unanswered, and they were too far away for a simple journey. It would take weeks, they would be too open for too long. There wasn’t a wand between them. Not that any of them would have the proper skills to use one if they had it. 

Hermione thought they should try finding Mad-Eye, join the resistance. Fight! Mad-Eye was from before the fall. There were things he knew, spells and secrets from long ago that Harry suspected was more of the reason behind Hermione’s want to find him than the actual fighting. 

Fred and George, well, they hadn’t said much of anything. Not since Ginny...

Harry took a deep breath, the dry air burning his throat and lungs, but he didn’t falter. Couldn’t falter. He was the pack omega...or he had been, when they had an alpha to make them a pack. He was supposed to keep everyone grounded. Keep them together. He had failed. More than failed, he was the reason they were in this position in the first place. He was reason for...everything. 

It was amazing how much could be lost in a mere fifteen years. How much the world could change. There were few facts that Harry knew for a certain. When he was baby The Dark Lord, Voldemort, had come into his home, killed his parents, and then tried to kill him. Those were the only facts he’d ever been given for certain. The rest of the story changed depended on who told it. 

There was an explosion, some say. A backlash of magic from Harry so powerful it had taken out his family home and his would be murderer. It was proof, they said, that he was powerful. The Chosen One. Other’s say that something went wrong. Perhaps one of Harry’s parents had been able to throw a spell at Voldemort before he could finish them off. Some powerful counter spell maybe, the explosion resulting in the deaths of the three adult wizards, leaving Harry the sole survivor. 

Somehow the Death Eaters knew that Voldemort was gone after the attack. Instead of mourning his loss, they sprang into action. There were more of them than anyone had realized. Rats within the Order. Factions all over the world. En mass, they attacked. 

Everyone. 

Everything. 

There were stories, from Sirius, from the Weasley’s, from Mad-Eye and the rest who were old enough to remember. About Hogwarts. About children gathering to learn from their elders. About books of spells. Classes dedicated to potions and portents. About a time when magic was learned and practiced in the open and with certainty. Not passed down through whispers. Practiced with foraged wands to ill results. 

What a lovely enchanted tapestry they wove with those tales. Things Harry dreamed and longed for. Almost he could feel how it should have been. Could almost see it. The rolling green hills. The magical creatures. The enormous, empty halls of a far away castle. 

Harry had grown up sheltered in the Order. Dumbledore had taught them when he could. But there was little he could do about their lack of wands and resources. They were moved almost yearly, kept in abandoned houses, old farms in the far reaches of the country, and one time in a seaside cottage. Never in one place too long. 

When Harry was thirteen he found out why. 

A man had shown up to their base one night. An old friend to many of the Order. He was haggard and beaten, seeking refuge. He spun a tale like none other. He had been taken by the Dark Lord’s werewolves during the attack. They’d held him captive, forcing him to give them the Order’s secrets. Trying to turn him to their side. Use his werewolf nature against him. 

Remus Lupin wrapped them up in a web of sympathy past affections. Blinded them with his sad eyes and wan complexion. But it was all a ruse. Just a means to an end. He needed to get close enough to get to Harry. To carry him off in the night to a graveyard, a circle of hooded figures, and a bubbling shimmering cauldron. He wasn’t even Remus Lupin, just someone wearing his visage. Harry didn’t learn that until after, of course. 

Much of that night was a blur for him. They had taken his blood, enough to make him dizzy and disoriented. A simple command from one of the hooded figures, an alpha with a voice like thunder, was enough to keep him down. Face in the dirt, unable to left his eyes enough to see the more than the hems of dark robes, hear their chanting, their laughter, and the acrid scent of the potion, burnt metal and decay. It wasn’t until Sirius was picking him up that he even realized that Dumbledore had lead an attack to get him back. 

It was that night that Harry learned another fact of the world. Lord Voldemort was back, and for some reason he wanted Harry. 

Dumbledore couldn’t tell him why beyond some wild speculations. He couldn’t even say whether the real Remus Lupin was still alive. Sirius wanted to think so, but the potion the impostor had used only needed some of his hair to work...and Harry couldn’t help but think that shaving the man and storing his hair would have been easier than keeping him alive. 

He never said that to Sirius though. 

Things had not been going well for them since Sirius’ death. Their hiding spots were less protected. They moved every night. Ginny had been a whiz at setting traps, and the twins had an uncanny ability to sense danger before it arrived. Neither of which saved them when they came in the night. When figures in black hoods and bone white masks just appeared in the field around their tent. 

They had portkeys left to them by Moody before his departure. Harry, Ron, and Hermione used one, leaving Fred, George, and Ginny the other. Ginny had wanted to set off her traps before they left. Try to take a few of the Death Eaters out if they could. 

They transported from the forest to a little copse of trees near the burnt out remains of a village. And waited. The black shells of cottages dotted the dark fields like dozing cows. It was almost peaceful but for the scent of ask and the mournful howling of the wind. It felt like a eternity before the other's arrival, the three of them huddled in the dark. Shivering. Not daring to speak. Then a whoosh of air around them, the solid thud of bodies falling to the hard packed earth. Fred and George, pale and silent, holding Ginny’s limp body between them. 

That had been three days ago. The twins hadn’t spoken a word since then. Hardly moved from the husk of a building they had settled in. Ron and Hermione were at each other’s throats. Grief and exhaustion turning into anger and resentment as they fought over which pack they should return to. 

Neither choice was a good one, in Harry’s opinion. The trek to the Burrow would leave them open to attack. Again. First Sirius and now Ginny, it could be any or all of them next. Ginny, her loss a physical hurt with every breath, every beat of his heart, three days and it still didn't feel real. Like she would just appear there around the fire, smiling and fiery and always so full of life...instead being buried under a pile of rocks outside the village. But they had been lucky. The twins returned to them. Lucky they hadn’t been followed to the village. 

They had no idea where Moody was, or if he was even succeeding in his vigilante pursuits. He had wanted to fight. But resources were beyond low. They were outnumbered and out powered, and no amount of want was going fill those voids. Harry didn’t want to fight a battle that couldn’t be won.

He just wanted everyone to survive. 

They were only targets because of him. Only vulnerable because Voldemort wanted him for some reason. Dead, probably. He most likely wanted Harry dead. Which was fine if it meant that he wouldn’t have to see the lifeless eyes of a friend again. Wouldn’t have to bury someone he loved. Again. 

He had taken one of the portkeys while the others slept. Wrapped himself in his father’s invisibility cloak and walked back to the trees, guided only by the misty morning light. He didn’t know how the portkeys worked, but he felt better doing it there, where they had arrived. As though he could go back in time to keep it from happening as it had. As though he could bring Ginny back. 

He leaned against an old twisted tree, his dirty and tangled hair snagging on the rough bark. Breathing deep, eyes closed, hands clasped over his rushing heart Harry tried to center his emotions, focus his mind. Like Dumbledore and Severus had once tried to teach him. He could do this, he would do this. For Ron, Hermione, George, and Fred. For Ginny. For Sirius. For everyone who had suffered to keep him safe. Reaching into his pocket, Harry clasped the portkey, a little carved figure of a phoenix, in his shaking hands. And waited. 

It didn’t take long before he was feeling the effects. Stomach lurking and twisting as he was pulled from one group of withering trees to another. The forest. Large and dark. Harry didn’t really know where he was going. He only had vague stories to go by. Voldemort was stationed in the old castle, Hogwarts. Hogwarts was located near an old and enchanted forest. It might not be the one they had been camping in for the past few weeks, but that was the best starting place Harry had. 

The forest was alive around him. The trees so tall he couldn’t see their peaks, the canopy so thick no light filtered through. He didn’t know what time it was, what direction he should go in. He just took a deep breath and began to walk. 

It was hours, it had to have been, the forest grew lighter around him, though no sunlight ever reached the ground, when he found a trail that had been ripped through the forest by some larger than life creature and, having nowhere else to turn, he began to follow it. He had never seen any of the magical beasts that Dumbledore and the other elders liked to tell them about when they were little. But if he ever doubted their existence he didn’t now. A foot print longer than his whole torso stood out in sharp relief in the mud. He skirted around it on his way through the path.

The day was nearly done when he heard it. Voices. Several people talking just up ahead and through the trees. Harry stopped, heart fit to burst. He took several deep breathes, and focused. Magic was hard to do without a wand but not impossible. They had practiced endlessly as children to do even the most simple things. Hermione was the best. Had lit a candle when she was four. Ron was good at moving objects. And Harry, Harry had learned to manipulate sounds. 

Very carefully, he muffled the noise around his feet. His cloak should keep him from not only being seen, or scented as well. Completely invisible, Harry followed the voices. 

He followed the disembodied voices through the forest, careful of the thick undergrowth. His movements might not make any noise, but if he snagged his cloak on a branch or disturbed something around him enough, he would give himself away quickly. As he followed them the voices became more distinct. A man and woman, they were arguing. Talking about...something. A bit of “soul” he thought they said, which made no sense to him at all. He had to be hearing it wrong. Why would they be looking for bits of a soul? 

He shook his head and kept on following. Then, all the sudden, they were out of the trees, rolling hills stretched endlessly in front of him. And sitting high on top of the tallest one, was a castle. For several long minutes Harry couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Could it have been so easy? To just wander up to the castle he needed. The two black cloaked figures walked a winding path to a large gate of ornate iron. One of them, for Harry couldn’t tell which was the man or woman from behind, took out a stick and tapped the gate three times, the iron bars swung inward without a sound. 

A wand!

They had a wand! 

It was unbelievable! Only the elders ever had wands. Harry had only ever held one once or twice. It was always such a marvelous sight to behold, the wielding of magic. 

The gate was closed by the time Harry got there, the two figures now halfway to the castle. Perhaps the path was magic as well, for them to have traveled to far so quickly. Harry had never been so happy with his small stature as he was then, slipping through the bars easily. He followed the path with swift, eager steps. So close, so close, so close!

Hogwarts. It had to be! when he closed his eyes he sometimes saw this castle. This path. In fitful dreams he’d wake, limbs aching as though he’d spent the whole night running the ghostly halls. As though searching, but never knew what for. Now his body shook as he climbed the few steps to the door, excitement, adrenaline, fear. He felt everything at that moment. The man and woman had been inside for a while now. The door was closed once more and he hadn’t seen if there was something he needed to do to make it open. 

He took a deep breath and pressed a hand to the warm wood, breathing a sigh of relief as it opened, soundless and smooth. It was his imagine, he was sure, that the wood pulsed under his palm. Just a trick of the wind and his frayed nerves that caused a shiver to ripple down his spine. 

The door opened into a great hall. Completely empty, eerily silent. There was a grand staircase opposite the door, to one side a set of large, intricately carved doors that were firmly closed. A massive sculpture took up one wall. A snake, larger than Hagrid. Its scales depicted in carved bits of jade, emerald, and gleaming silver. It was so lifelike. Rudy eyes seemed to follow Harry as he rushed across the room to the stairs. The fine hairs on his neck and arms standing on end. He wanted to be away from it and fast. 

The staircase let off at a landing, surrounded by archways that led into halls that led to more arches or stairs or endless corridors. He didn’t know where to turn. What to do. He was in the middle of enemy territory...what would happen if someone found him standing stock still on the landing? As though the universe was fit to test this, several loud voices echoed down several halls at once. In a panic, Harry turned to the first empty archway he could see and dashed down the corridor. Turning this way and that without thought or reason. 

He followed a hall up some steps, down another hall and onto another wide landing. He stopped in his tracks, blinking around him in amazement. 

He knew this place. 

Sometimes when he slept, he dreamed of this landing. Almost every night, if he were being honest. It was this exact hall. He was sure of it! The way the evening sun slanted through the tall, stained glass windows. The pale stone, smooth and cool beneath his feet. Even the gentle, tugging breeze was the same. Harry’s feet carried him forward. Dazed. 

He passed by several doors, never even looking inside. It was as though his mind, his body, knew where to go. When another voice drifted through the hall he did not feel fear as he had before. Something about the deep, calm voice was soothing. Like laying down to rest after a day on the run. The first sweet breath of air after a terrifying flight for one’s life. This voice promised so many things. Warmth. Protection. 

Home. 

He stood in a doorway, another towering arch, the heavy doors thrown wide. There were three figures within. Two kneeling on the floor, their heads bowed, hoods drawn forward, bone masks on the floor before them. They were facing a man who stood with his back to them and door, as he stared out a bank of windows towards the setting sun. 

He was not dressed like them. His robes were form fitting, showing off a strong back, the rich green silk draped beautifully on his tall frame. His hair was dark brown, curled and perfect. It all served to remind Harry how bedraggled he must look. He wore some of Fred and George’s old robes, there was never much among the order, and Harry had been too small for most everyone else’s hand-me-downs. His hair was long and wild, and he hadn’t had a real bath in weeks. 

A breeze ruffled the man’s hair, sending his scent through the room, to Harry. It was strong, masculine. Like sandalwood and orange blossoms. Harry shivered, leaning into the door frame to keep his feet beneath him. 

“How hard it is to find one boy?” The man asked, he gripped the windowsill, his long fingers starkly white against the pale stone.

“They must have something they travel with, my Lord,” The man said, his eyes firmly on the floor. Harry’s heart jumped just a little. He knew that voice...had heard it at Order hideout all the time. But why...what was he doing here?

“A portkey, probably,” The woman said, and Harry couldn’t tell if he was happy or disappointed that he didn’t know who she was. “According to Severus they never taught the children to apparate.” Beside her, Severus nodded. 

If Harry remembered correctly, when it was time to teach the older kids to apparate Severus had been the one to veto it. It was too dangerous, he had said, to lift the anti apparation wards for the lessons. 

A part of Harry fumed. 

“Portkeys can be traced,” The man growled, the sound turning Harry’s bone to liquid, he was hardly able to keep himself standing...he was certain he made no noise but soon the man was turning, viper quick, from the window. His eyes were bright. Haunting. Red. His gaze fell on Severus and the woman, before quickly flicking up to the doorway. Harry shifted so that he was pressed up against the wooden frame. 

He couldn’t be seen. 

He couldn’t be scented.

He would be safe.

He was just on edge. This man was an alpha. He was stronger than anyone Harry had ever met before. Sirius, even Dumbledore, paled compared to him. 

The man turned back to the others, Harry’s head spun, his breath stuttering as the man walked slowly to Severus and the woman. “You will go back out there, you will trace the sight where they vanished. You will bring him to me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my Lord.” They said together and as one they bowed, foreheads to the floor before taking up their masks and donning them once more. Harry moved out to the hall, pressing himself to the wall as they passed. Severus’ scent of moss and verbena washed over him, mixing with the woman’s cloying cinnamon and vanilla horrendously. He held his breath as they passed, trying not to gag on their shared fear and anger. 

He waited until they turned down another hall before moving. He wasn’t sure what to do. Where to go. There were soft noises coming from the room, the melodic clink of porcelain, a gentle hum. More of the man’s scent carried through the doors on the evening breeze. Wrapped around him. Propelled him back to the door. 

The man was sweeping through the room....making tea...?

He had set up a little table on which sat a pretty little teapot decorated with delicate flowers, two dainty matching cups, and a little dish of sugar and pitcher of cream. There were two plush wing backed chairs that Harry hadn’t seen before as well. All of these thing were seated in front of a roaring fire. The man looked up from the tea set as Harry stood in the doorway. He smiled, warm and lovely. 

“Hello, Harry, come have some tea.”

Harry took a step back, hands grasping for the door frame, “you...you can see me?”

“Of course I can, Harry,” The man moved around the chairs and was standing before Harry far quicker than he should have been. How did these people move so fast? Beautifully elegant hands reached up and pushed the hood of Harry’s cloak away before settling on his shoulders. “I’ve been looking for you for a very long time.”

“Y-you have,” Harry asked softly, the man pulled him into the room, between his scent and his voice Harry was having a hard time thinking of a reason to not follow. Or remembering why he had been so scared before. “Why?”

The man led him to a chair and pushed him down, gentle but firm. “You’re special, Harry.” He said, pouring a cup of tea, he put in a dash of cream and a single sugar cube and handed it to Harry. “You’re important to me.”

“Who...who are you?” But he knew, didn’t he? Not that this man looked like the Dark Lord everyone told scary stories about. He didn’t act like a crazed murder either...he was...nice. 

The man smiled that warm and charming smile again, taking up a cup for himself and sitting in the other chair, regal and completely relaxed. “My name is Tom.”

Well that wasn’t scary at all. Harry sipped the tea Tom had given him, relishing the sweetness, the way it warmed him to his core. When was the last time he’d had something hot to eat or drink? “I’ve..um...never heard of you before.” Harry said, a little nervous. Was that a mean thing to say to someone? Some alphas got angry if they weren’t remembered or respected. He didn’t really understand it. 

Tom just laughed, his own cup balanced gracefully on his knee. “No one else knows that name, and Harry,” he fixed Harry with stern, red eyes, “do make sure no one else hears you say it.”

“Oh...o-okay.” Harry fiddled with his cup for a few anxious seconds before asking, “what do other people call you?”

Tom sighed, he lifted his cup and took a long sip before placing it on the table between them. “I am known, by my followers and those who have opposed my rule, as Lord Voldemort.” 

Harry nearly dropped his cup, he nearly choked on the tea, his heart stopped for a second, then another....But nothing happened...

Tom...Lord Voldemort, didn’t leap from his chair and try to strangle Harry. He didn’t pull a knife and attempt to stab him. Or...or any number of things Harry had thought of over the years. In the graveyard his followers had drained his blood. Taken so much of it that Dumbledore had said it was lucky they had found him when they had. When it was clear the Death Eaters were looking for him again Harry had assumed it was to finish the job. 

But Lord Voldemort....Tom, had made him tea instead. Sat him by the fire to get warm...

“Harry?” 

Harry jerked, glancing at Tom worriedly. He had leaned forward in his chair, concern on his lovely face, all his attention focused on Harry. 

Tom frowned for several seconds, “Oh,” he said suddenly, pressing a hand to his brow as he shook his head. “Look at you, you’re exhausted. When was the last time you slept, my dear? Or eaten?”

“I-i..” Harry stuttered. It had been a while for both. Nowhere was safe, and supplies were slim. 

Tom stood, graceful, fluid motions, like a dancer almost. He took Harry’s cup, sat it on the table, and then his strong, elegant hands were on Harry’s arms, lifting him up, leading him across the room. “This way, come on. It’ll be alright.” 

Harry didn’t really have much a choice but to follow. Tom was tall, and imposing. His presence should have felt suffocating, but it didn’t. There was something about the touch of his skin, the warmth of it, and his scent, how it reminded Harry of things he couldn’t place. Like returning home to a home he could almost remember. And Tom was right. He was tired. He was cold and hungry, and he just wanted to be safe. For his friends to be safe as well. 

Tom lead him down a hall lined with opened doors and different rooms. They passed through too many too quickly, Harry couldn’t focus on them past Tom. Tom. Tom. He was just there. He was everywhere. The room they stopped in held a large bath. It looked more like a little pond than anything. It was carved into the floor, tiled in shimmery green and silver stones. Like the snake in the hall only much less scary. 

Tom crouched down by a large bank of taps, turning them at seeming random. Soon the room was filled with the music of running water, as the bath filled with glimmering bubbles and air became warm and fragrant. 

When the bath was full Tom returned to Harry. He ran his hand’s through Harry’s hair, soft and gentle, as though Harry was something fragile and precious. “Take a bath and relax, and when you’re finished I will have food brought up, yes? Then I’ll answer any questions you have.”

Harry nodded. It seemed like a fair trade. Harry did have questions. And a bath and food did sound nice. Tom hadn’t tried to kill him, so perhaps he wouldn’t...what would be the point of bathing him first anyway? 

Tom looked a little torn as he left the room, as though a part of him wanted to stay and make sure Harry didn’t disappear. Eventually he did step out, though, shutting the door softly behind him. 

Harry took his time in the bath. The luxury of being clean and warm were not things he was willing to pass up, even if he was technically in his enemy’s den. When he was finished he took a fluffy green towel from a rack on the wall. He didn’t want to put back on his old robe. It had once been blue but had faded in some places and was stained with mud in others. The hem in tatters and the cuffs beyond frayed. As much as he has appreciated it when Fred and George had given it to him, he loath to touch now.

There was a gentle tapping at the door, “Harry,” Tom called, “I have some clean clothes, if you would like them.”

Harry hugged the towel closer to his small frame as he opened the door just a crack and peeked through. Tom was on the other side, smiling kindly and holding out a bundle of robes. They were a pale green, just a few shades away from being white. Harry took them with a little, nervous, smile of his own. “Thank you.” He said, holding the robes to his chest. 

“Think nothing of it,” Tom said, he was already stepping away from the door to give Harry some privacy. “There is food in the lounge when you are ready.”

The robe was silk. SILK! The fabric slippery against his skin as he slid it on. He was a little surprised to see that it fit him nearly perfected. He had been expecting to get one of Tom’s old robes, which would have surely been too large for him. This though. He had never been given anything of so nice a quality or that fit him so well. The hem dragged the floor and he had the cuffs were a tad too long, but he was small for his age, even for an omega. He spent a few minutes running his hands down the shimmery fabric over his chest and stomach, marveling at how well it hugged his frame. 

He turned to pick up his discarded robe and cloak, but they were no longer where he’d left them on the floor. Magic...This whole castle was magic. He needed to remember that. 

The lounge, as it turned out, was not the room they had been in before. It was through one for the many doors that Tom had led him past on the way to the bath. It was small, cozy. Over stuffed chairs and chaises peppered the room that was warmed by not one, but two large heaths. The prevailing color was green, which Harry was beginning to understand must be Tom’s favorite color. It was nice, soothing. Like being in a invitingly lush forest. A cart stood before one of the chaises, Tom, already seated, waved him over. 

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I had the elves prepare a little bit of everything for you.” He seemed very pleased by this baffling statement, as though Harry should know what exactly an elf was and why or how they would provide food from them. Harry walked around the cart, eyeing the contents with open hunger on his way to the chaise. 

He sat next to Tom, blushing slightly under so much attention. “The...ah...the elves?”

Tom chuckled gaily, he began loading one of the golden plates with all sorts of things that Harry had no name fore. He recognized the potatoes, and a few of the marinated vegetables, but there were large cuts of meat and some sort of filled bread he had never seen before. This, Tom set before him on the cart. “Eat, eat!” He said, waiting for Harry to take up a fork before making a plate for himself. “House elves,” he said by way of answering Harry’s questions, “I forget how much you must not know, living as you have been. House elves take care of the castle. They help out wizarding families.”

Harry took a tentative bite of the bread, there was minced meat, peas, and bits of potatoes in it, all in a creamy sauce, it was wonderful. Taking several more mouthfuls he ate as slow as his starving stomach would allow. All the while content to listen to Tom as he spoke. He told Harry all sorts of wild and fantastical things. House elves. Thestrals. He promised to show Harry a giant squid that lived under a lake and an even more massive snake that resided under the castle itself. 

Despite how hungry he had felt it wasn't long before Harry couldn't take another bite. Harry placing his fork on the table must have been the cue Tom had been waiting for. Instantly his chatter cut off and he turned to Harry. Nothing but compassion in his eyes and the statuesque lines of his face. 

"You have questions?" He asked.

Harry nodded.

"Please, ask me anything. Everything. You have nothing to fear here, Harry, I promise." Something laced through his voice. Reminiscent of the tone Dumbledore used to use during drills or actual attacks. Only instead of setting Harry's instinct to hide into overdrive, Tom's voice had him relaxing. His words somehow leaching tension Harry hadn't even known he'd been carrying around. 

Harry worried at his lip for a moment. This wasn’t at all how he thought an encounter with Voldemort would go. He had come prepared to kneel at his feet and beg that he take Harry’s life and leave his friends alone. Not...this...not possibly getting answers to questions that had been burning in his soul for his whole life. 

Taking a deep breath, Harry asked the first question he could ever remember having. “W-well...Dumbledore said that you...hunted my family down, killed my parents and tried to kill me...” 

Tom’s eyes flashed, gleaming red at Dumbledore’s name, but when they cleared there was nothing but sadness left behind. “I suppose he would say that,” he frowned down at Harry, “how did he explain what happened that night?”

Harry shook his head a little, “he didn’t...not really.” He had told stories of how Harry’s parent’s must of fought when the Dark Lord came for them. How his mother had saved him. They were pretty stories. They had lent Harry a modicum of peace when he was little. But that’s all they were. Stories. “He was never able to explain it with certainty...and I can’t remember...”

“I remember.” Tom’s voice was soft, barely a whisper, but Harry heard it just fine. They were so close. And the room was so quiet. The sadness was still in his eyes when Tom looked down on him again, after a few moments of milling everything over, he began to speak. 

“I had plans back then. Of how to change our world. Make it better, safer, for us.”

“Safer?”

Tom smiled, small and melancholy. “The muggles, they always hated us, and we were doing nothing to protect ourselves from them. We allowed some to know us, and in return they wanted to kill us. I had plans to keep that from happening.” His eyes gleamed, his jaw strengthening as he remembered. “Some, like Dumbledore, disagreed with my methods. He said a lot of awful things about me to keep his followers afraid of the change I proposed.”

“That night, I didn’t hunt down your parents. We had set up a meeting, away from Dumbledore’s influence, to discuss the future of our world.” Tom sighed and shook his head, he said bleakly, “I’m not sure myself what happened. One minute we, your parents and myself, were talking over their dinner table, the next was nothing but fire and ash. You were tucked away upstairs, if I remember correctly. I’m not sure how you survived.” He smiled then, it was lovely, hopeful. “You’re a miracle, Harry.”

“But if you...if you didn’t want to h-hurt me, then why...why did your followers kidnap me two years ago?” Harry hugged his arms tightly around his middle, shrinking into the back of the chaise. “They almost killed me.” His voice was a weak, frightened thing. 

Tom carefully took his hands, holding them gingerly in his own, “look at me, Harry.” After a small hesitation, he did. “I didn’t tell them to do that, and the one’s responsible have already been dealt with. I would never put your life in danger...but..your blood was needed for the ritual that brought me back. Not as much as they took, mind you.” His grinned, dazzling, “in a way, you saved my life.”

Harry flushed a little under so much doting attention, unused to having anyone look at him so closely. “I still don’t think I understand.”

“Harry,” Tom said, warm, sturdy. His scent wrapped around Harry a little more firmly. “The past...it’s over now. The people who meant to hurt us are gone, and though things may not have turned out how we wanted, we have a future we can start building towards. A future I know your parent's would be proud of. Isn’t that what matters most now?”

They did? No one ever spoke about Harry's parents in such a way. He wasn't sure he understood the things Tom wanted well enough to say they were right. How could someone like Harry be a help to him anyway? He couldn’t even remember anyone else trying to build anything. His whole life had been running and hiding, and listening to stories of how things used to be. Bitter recountings of older witches and wizards who felt their world had been turned to shreds around them. They never really spoke about making things better. 

And now that the possibility was there, spoken so easily, he had to wonder why that was. Why had the Order not cared enough to rebuild? 

Instead he asked. “You sent Severus out to look for me, didn’t you? A-and before, the Death Eaters, they’ve been hunting us for a while....why?”

Tom’s grin was sharp, but his eyes were warm, he began lightly tracing his thumbs over the back of Harry’s hands, soothing little motions that had the rest of Harry nerves melting instantly. “I promised your parent's I would protect you, so long ago. And I always keep my promises.”

“And don’t worry about Severus and the others,” Tom said with a little laugh, “I’ll call them back soon. I just wanted time to speak with you alone first.”

Harry nodded, that made sense. Tom had been very kind to allow him the opportunity to freshen up and eat before having to deal with...Severus. He was odious to deal with at the best of times, there was no telling what he might have had to say about Harry’s disheveled appearance if he had seen it. 

There was only one more thing left for Harry to do. 

The reason he was there. 

“T-Tom.” Harry began, he swallowed dryly a few times before working up enough moisture to continue. “Now that I’m here will you...will you promise to not hurt my friends anymore?” Harry squeezed his eyes tight, unable to look at him. What if the request was the thing that would set him off. There was obviously pain between him and the Order, and he didn’t seem to care that Dumbledore was dead.

The hands disappeared from their hold, Harry flinched before his face was being cupped. Gentle, and protective. Orange and sandalwood filling his sense. Harry cracked open his eyes at the soft utterance of his name. 

Tom’s eyes were dark, his expression solemn, before he could figure out what it all might have meant he was being gathered up in large, strong arms and cradled to Tom’s chest. “My sweet, little Harry.” Tom’s voice rumbled through Harry’s core, like thunder, relaxing his aching muscles. He floated in the sensations. Warm. Safe. Comfortable. For the first time in his hard life. 

Harry rested his head on Tom’s shoulder as he ran a hand through the long strands Harry’s still damp hair, getting lost in Tom’s voice, in his larger than life presence. 

“Now that I have you, Harry...now that you’re safe. I have no need to waste my time and efforts on any of them. Now that you’re in my arms nothing else matters, and I promise,” Tom whispered fiercely, crushed Harry to his chest, held him as though afraid the world might come and snatch Harry away. He pressed his nose to Harry’s hair and breathed a deep, satisfying, sigh of relief. 

“I am never going to let you go.”

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO LOVES!!
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed this. I've always lowkey wanted to do a dystopian story, and this is short, and there could be more but there isn't. But it was still fun to get a bit out it out. 
> 
> First off, Tom is a dirty dirty liar. He should not believed AT ALL. But poor Harry is so tired and he just needs a hug and to be loved, and well...that's what Tom is going to give him. Whether he wants it or not.  
> Potentially set up for a 'romantic' relationship, I figure it's more parental at the start as that's more what Harry needs and I'm sure Tom can see that. 
> 
> In ABO the invisibility cloak would need to work on scent as well otherwise it would be nearly useless. 
> 
> Tom can't help but be gaudy and redecorated the front hall. Screw the houses! Here's a snake made out of jewels!!
> 
> I assume that a lot wizards and witches lost their wands, they were damaged or stolen. And probably the Death Eaters got to Olivander sooner rather than later. Without a real wand maker they couldn't make new ones. And with the Death Eaters around the Order couldn't get a hold of books or anything to teach the kids with. 
> 
> Yes Severus has a wand AND lied about not having one to the Order. He mostly stayed awful because there wasn't anything cushy to fall back on in this AU. Also, he probably tried to take Harry after Dumbledore died and couldn't find him cuz Sirius ran off with him in the night. 
> 
> I'm not sure there's much else to say about this story. Let me know if you have questions, I'll be happy to answer anything. Since these are disjointed stories (The next three for me are the same but otherwise they are all stand alone) I won't run the risk of spoiling anything. 
> 
> Subscribe to the series to stay tuned for tomorrow. Day two is supposed to be arranged marriage and scent marking BUT because I don't like Fake Relationship aus (Day three, I think) I've done something completely different that goes on for the next three days...so I'm out of order.  
> For me, only me, tomorrow IS  
> Demon Tom, Fairy Harry, Courting!!  
> I hope to see you then!!!
> 
> Until then, thanks for reading!!


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